


Gazed

by justgotowisharder



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, And More Fluff, Basically, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, Cuddling & Snuggling, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Harry is just, Insecure Louis, LITERALLY, M/M, Past Abuse, Protective Harry, Romantic Fluff, Scared Louis, Top Harry, Well - Freeform, an angel - Freeform, and weird magic things, louis is cursed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:53:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2756882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justgotowisharder/pseuds/justgotowisharder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Open your eyes, Louis,” Harry asked softly.<br/>“I can’t,” Louis said. “I’m so sorry. I can’t risk your life, I don't want to hurt you.”<br/>“Lou, please.”<br/>“I can’t. You’ll never meet my eyes, Harry. Never.”</p><p> (Or the one where Louis Tomlinson is cursed and he can’t look anyone in the eyes, and Harry is just Harry, too curious to avoid wondering why Louis always wears sunglasses)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gazed

**Author's Note:**

> This happens when I study Lacan. Blame him (i should stop using everything i study as inspiration for my fics lol) Hope you like it! Lottie xx
> 
> Lacan said: gaze is the anxious state that comes with the awareness that one can be viewed. The psychological effect, Lacan argues, is that the subject loses a degree of autonomy upon realizing that he or she is a visible object.
> 
>  
> 
> [ [ Read this story in Russian here ] ](https://ficbook.net/readfic/3300530)  
> 

**I.**

It wasn’t a big thing. It was fine for Louis.

Generally speaking, not being able to look into the eyes should have been something to be ashamed of, something to loathe. For Louis, it was a blessing.

Well, not strictly _a blessing_ , but something he had learned to accept in his life. If people couldn't see into his eyes, then people would never find out who he was.

 _A faggot._  

Don’t get him wrong, he got privileges from it; Louis wasn’t going to complain. As they mistook him for blind because he wore eyeglasses all the time, they offered him the seat on the bus, they tried to guide him, and people were usually pretty nice to him. Oh,  _yes_ , they also looked at him with pity. 

The pity in their eyes was the only thing Louis hated about this. 

But  _he_  didn't seem to feel pity for Louis.  _He_  was curious. 

Louis wasn’t going to pretend he hadn’t have noticed the beauty in Curly's face, the charm he had. They took the same bus every morning, and even though they never spoke a word, it was plainly obvious that both of them wanted to start  _something_ , anything.

Curly's green eyes were full of happiness, purity and joy; and Louis was seeking those feelings.

His eyes told the story of a gorgeous boy with some kind of nostalgia that maybe came from missing his childhood. He had the strong blink of a man secure of whom he was; the glimpse of a dreamer and the deepness of someone who didn't only want a first impression.

He wasn't like the rest.

He was the kind of boy Louis could easily fall for, but he was aware of his weirdness. Louis was aware that it couldn't take Curly too long to wonder why he wore sunglasses all the fucking time. 

He was also aware of his dirtiness; he knew he was _just a faggot_.

So when Curly sat down next to him that morning, Louis shivered.

 _God_ , his eyes didn't stop glancing at Louis, but why? He did his best to ignore it.

What if he found out? What if he hated him? They didn't even know each other, but Louis couldn’t stand the idea of losing him (which was insane, because he didn’t even have him in the first place).

Louis felt his body raising its internal temperature, suddenly he didn’t know what to do with his clumsy hands. He was fidgety in his seat, he couldn't stop moving nervously.

He was behaving like a teenager with a crush, it was honestly embarrassing. Even though he didn't want to, his eyes didn't seem to have any other interest more than the boy next to him.

Louis eyed at his legs by the corner of his eye, finding those thin, endless legs wrapped in tight leather trousers. He looked at his leg because he didn't have the guts to look at his eyes.

_Well, he couldn't, anyway._

Louis wanted him to start a conversation and he was pretty sure Curly was expecting him to do it, but... Keeping his mouth shut was a better option.

You see, Louis was  _bad_ at flirting. He was just a short boy with big ass and stupid eyes; and judging by the look in the mysterious boy's face, he should probably have mastered skills to get the boys and girls.

No, Louis had zero chances. Yet still...

“Do you usually…?”

“…seen you here before!”

A shy smile cracked Louis’ face as soon as he and Curly turned to each other and spoke at the same time. The boy blushed, beaming like a little kid, the corner of his eyes getting crinkly.

Man, he was  _so_  pretty. Pretty in a princess-y way.

Louis looked into his eyes, sunglasses in between, while Curly’s green stared uncomfortably at his hands.

“I’m sorry; I’m so dumb sometimes,” Curly apologized although Louis didn’t find a reason for his apology. “I’m Harry. Styles, Harry Styles."

He was stuttering, and somehow Louis found it endearing. He wanted to cuddle him, keep him with him forever, rock him on his lap.

“Hi, Harry. I'm Louis Tomlinson, apparently we’re bus buddies, hum?"

Harry giggled, nodding with the head. “Yes, we are. I thought I was the only one who noticed it. Are you going to work?”

“Uni, actually,” Louis replied, aware that he was making conversation with a stranger, someone he wasn’t supposed to trust. “What about you?”

“Not that lucky, I’m going to work,” Harry answered. The silence hang upon them for a brief second, second Harry hesitate before speaking out, "Hum… I may have noticed you because… Hum… Well, you are really pretty, Louis."

It took Louis a couple of seconds to fall in the realization that Harry was  _complimenting_  him.

He felt shivers running down his spine; he didn’t know how much Harry meant his words, but when he tried to look for some kind of fakeness, he found none. Harry honestly thought he was pretty.

But Louis wasn’t pretty, right? He was a simple _faggot_. Couldn't Harry see that? No, as he couldn't see into Louis's eyes.

"Thanks, dear,” he thanked quietly. “You’re a flatterer, don’t you?"

"Only with tiny boys with stunning blue eyes," Harry teased, winking at him.

Harry was indeed very good at flirting, Louis thought, while he was an easy prey.

"Oh, shut up, Harry. I bet you win all the girls with that smile of yours,” he grinned, pretending to be offended. “Also, I’m not tiny.”

“Oh, sure,” Harry nodded, straight faced. “Small. Very, very small.”

Louis chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Why am I talking to you, again?”

They kept talking for a while and it surprised Louis how easy the conversation flowed between them without any uncomfortable moment of silence. Harry was willing to listen, a quality not all people had.

Yet Louis started to feel a bit itchy. It wasn’t Harry’s company, it was that he _knew_ the boy was wondering why the hell he wore sunglasses. Harry was too polite to ask, anyway.

Louis loved and hated that at the same time; Harry himself caused inside him something very difficult to label.

"...and then I guess I was right," Harry finished his story, a story Louis attentively listened. "What's on your mind, Lou? You seem to be in another planet."

The pet name fall unconsciously form Harry’s mouth and it didn’t pass unnoticed by Louis, who felt a strange warmth in his stomach he decided to ignore.

“I’m here, Haz.” He wanted to reciprocate the pet name, finding a sweet taste on his mouth when he spoke it. “You talk extremely slow, you know? Don't get me wrong, love, I quite like it.” 

Harry giggled as a pair of cute dimples appeared on his childish face. Louis noticed how his dirty hair was covered by a weird pink scarf around his head. His fashion sense could have passed as weird for some people, yet he found it delightful. He was wearing his shirt half unbuttoned, which leave a great sight to his tattoos.

Louis didn’t like the way everything on Harry made him feel completely fascinated. It was like losing control, giving his heart to a new, bright creature he didn’t even know.

Louis wasn’t ready to give anything to anyone, much less his heart.

“People tell me that all the time,” Harry explained, smiling timidly. “I guess that’s why they think I’m boring.”

Louis shook his head, emphatic. “You’re many things, Haz, but boring isn’t one. Trust me.”

Louis offered him a warm smile, one Harry reciprocated without hesitation.

"Oh,” Harry mutters, lost for words. “Thank you, Lou."

Louis ginned, pleased when he saw the light red blush on Harry's cheeks. It didn’t have any logical reason, but Louis found an odd pleasure in complimenting Harry.

It was weird because he didn't know him at all, but something about him... Louis  _wanted_ , pined for this kid.

Harry played with his long fingers absentmindedly for a minute, and then asked, “What about you, Louis? Why do you—?”

He never finished the question, leaving it hanging in the air. He never did, but Louis was very well aware what Harry wanted to ask.

His heart started to beat faster, suddenly getting the urge to chew something in order to calm his anxiety.

He wasn’t ready to give up on Harry. He wasn’t ready to tell him how dirty he was.

“I mean; were you born blind?”

 _Oh, God_ , Harry truly believed that Louis was blind. The boy felt a rush of tenderness inside his chest because Harry had the face of a worried friend and the expression of a lost puppy who didn’t want to hurt his owner.

Then, he laughed. He laughed because Harry, that angel of a boy, treated him normally, like a regular guy, not even pitying Louis for 'being' blind.

“Hey,” Harry said grumpily when Louis cracked into laughter. “What?”

“I’m not blind, angel,” Louis spoke as he recovered his normal breathing, explaining things to Harry. “I’m just a quirky ass who likes to wear sunglasses."

“Oh.”

Harry's face made crystal clear that he wanted the ground to swallow him up, and Louis wanted it to make it better. He, for the very first time in years,  _wanted to explain._

Explain things with honesty, talking about the matter without lies or excuses.

Yet telling Harry  _“I wear sunglasses because since I’m five years old I cannot look directly into people’s eyes because if I do, I turn them into stone. I'm cursed, like some kind of modern Disney Princess but much worse"_  was not an option. Not even to think about it.

Louis wanted to slap himself on the face for being so weak, falling for the charms of a boy he didn't even know; to the point of considering the option of speaking the truth.

 _Fuck no_ , Louis wasn't going to be vulnerable again.

“That’s fine, Harry,” Louis nodded, resting a hand on Harry’s leg, making him flinch a bit. “You were very nice with me, it's just a misunderstanding.”

“I mean,” Harry quickly added, clearing his throat. “Nothing, forget it. I think I gotta go; the next one is my stop.”

“Oh,” Louis said, surprised. No, not surprised, a little  _heartbroken_. He didn't want Harry to go just yet. “Okay.”

Harry raised his eyes at him (goddammit, Harry’s gaze was so powerful, it felt as if it could cross his sunglasses and his eyes, looking straight to his soul) and smiled.

"Don’t worry. We can do this again tomorrow."

"What? Travel together?" Louis asked, confused.

"I was thinking about having lunch. If that’s okay with you."

"It’s more than okay, Haz,” he agreed, regretting his words as soon as he spoke them.

He was  _accepting_  to hang out with a boy. He was  _smiling_  as he agreed to have lunch, he was being vulnerable.

How many years had passed since he had promised to never be involved with anyone else?

“Let me give you my phone, Lou.”

He grabbed Louis' hand and the mere touch of their skins was enough to send a ridiculous rush of adrenaline down Louis’ body.

Harry wrote his number with a Sharpie and added his name and a smiley face at the end. Once finished, Harry giggled and Louis thought his laughter was the sweetest thing he has ever heard.

When they met gazes again, the boy felt chills running down his spine. Harry’s eyes were locked on his, but he didn’t know; he couldn’t look back at him without the sunglasses.

“I like you, Louis. You’re nice. I’m glad I thought you were blind.”

Louis smiled; a genuine smile split his lips. “I like you too, Harry, angel.”

Harry stood up, ready to get off the bus. “I will text you as soon as I can, Lou.”

 _‘As soon as I can_ ’ happened to be that exact afternoon.

 

**II.**

“He didn’t ask you even once why the hell you always wear sunglasses again?” Zayn asked while they were sitting on the couch, eating takeaway from the boxes. “Really?”

“No. Not even once since we first met," Louis confirmed. “I told him I was a quirky ass and that was all. He… He respects me, Zayn.”

“That’s a big thing, mate,” his friend said, arching eyebrows. “How many dates you had already? Ten?”

“There weren’t official dates, Z. Plus, Harry is special,” Louis explained, thoughtful. He didn’t want to fall for Harry, but he didn’t realize he had started to fall already. “I don’t even know how to explain it. He’s so— pure.”

“Okay, Tomlinson,” Zayn muttered, biting his lower lip with the expression of a concerned mother. “Don’t fall for the kid, lad. You can’t, at least not if you’re not ready to tell him about your… You know, you stuff.”

“I can’t tell him, Zayn,” Louis made it clear, his voice tone sharp and serious. As much as he wanted to, he could never tell the truth to Harry. _Never_. “He’ll freak out and run away. You’re the only one who had stood by my side. Not only when this magic thing happened, but also after he... You know."

“The magic thing isn’t that terrible, though.”

Zayn was always like that, so carefree when it came to Louis’ thing. He never really considered it a big issue, he took it as a normal thing, like some kind of condition that made Louis slightly different but didn’t stop him from being a human.

“Zayn. I turn people into stones when they look at me. Like—”

Every time Louis talked about his condition, he felt his throat closing and his heart race speeding up. It made him feel so _helpless_ , not because of the issue itself, but for the circumstances that had caused it.

He didn’t want it, he loathed it. He felt so dirty, worthless, _and vulnerable_. Louis hated to be vulnerable.

“Louis, bro,” Zayn said, patting him on the back. “Calm down, okay? Don’t be upset over something you can’t control. Enjoy the time with Harry; it’s pretty obvious he makes you happy.”

“I don’t want to be happy because he’ll break my heart,” Louis whispered with a weak voice. He know it, his time with Harry was limited. No one could stand so long without knowing Louis’ secrets, and Louis couldn’t speak about them.

He was honestly tired of this.

 

**III.**

They grew closer. They grew extremely closer in a very short time, without realizing and without even trying. It was natural, one day Louis was walking home alone; and the other day Harry was picking him up.

One day, Louis was watching movies alone in his couch eating Doritos, and the other day Harry was all over the couch and they were eating strawberries, giggling at some stupid movie, wrapped into each other.

They fitted together, and Louis gave himself the benefit of the oblivion, he allowed himself to forget for once.

“I’m sorry the food is shit,” Louis said after they finished eating take away, both sat on the kitchen island while the music played in the background.

Harry had his lips reddish because of the salty sauce, making them plum and kissable. Louis tried to look somewhere else, he tried to drive off his attention; but his eyes found a way to come back to Harry’s lip.

“It’s fine, Lou,” Harry nodded happily. “You invited me and that’s what matters for me. I was really looking forward to this.”

Louis swallowed the lump on his throat, nodding hesitantly.

Truth be told, Louis didn't find the way to gain trust in people. He always thought that he was just a faggot for them. Hell, he  _knew_  he was just a faggot. 

But Harry...  _Maybe he was something more than just a faggot for him_.

They kept chatting about their families; Louis told him about his mom, his sisters and Zayn. Harry told him about his sister, his mother; and he was so lovely, so tender with him that Louis had to remind himself that Harry was a thing that could never be his.

They moved to the couch for the dessert, a delicious cake Harry had baked and tasted like heaven. With their tummies were full and their smiles too wide, freedom seemed like a good thing.

As they laughed together, Harry took his chance, falling for the closeness and the liberty they were putting on their relationship.

“Lou,” he asked, and Louis turned at him. “Why do you always wear sunglasses?”

Louis froze up. He wasn’t excepting the question, Harry caught him out of guard. The piece of cake on his mouth was suddenly impossible to swallow, he had to make an extra effort to make it.

_This was the moment._

Louis felt like a cheap Cinderella at midnight; the magic spell was about to be broken and Harry would run away.

This was moment to make up a stupid excuse about having photophobia or light sensibility, an excuse that would let him free to wear sunglasses without having to explain a thing anymore.

An excuse that didn’t make Harry see the horrible monster Louis was in reality.

“I’m—”

 _He couldn’t_. He couldn’t lie to this boy, he couldn’t even consider the option of speaking dishonesties. Harry was staring at him with those green eyes that never lied to him, eyes that were so honest, and _Louis couldn’t do it._

He couldn’t lie to that boy, he didn’t deserve it and he just didn’t want to do it. He couldn’t, as much as he tried.

He settled for the best answer. “It’s weird and complicated and you’ll probably run away.”

“I mean, is it about a sensibility?” Harry insisted, leaning forward in the couch, approaching Louis. “My mum told me about something called photophobia—”

Louis stared at Harry in disbelief, his heart clenching at the confession. The tenderness that grew inside his chest ran by his veins, making him feel alive, feel liked,  _loved_.

Harry not only had cared about him, he had also made research to know why Louis wore sunglasses.

It could be taken as a stalker, but Louis had none of it. For him, it was a pure act of love  _or_  friendship, at least.

“Yeah, that’s what I told to people,” he muttered, looking down.

“People?” Harry repeated, frowning. He bring Louis closer and rested a finger beneath this chin, lifting up his head a little so they were facing each other. “What do you mean, Lou?”

“You’re not people, Haz. You’re— Harry,” Louis whispered, seeking confront, confront Harry gave him when he linked their hands together.

“I don’t understand.”

Louis couldn’t say it. He couldn’t, but he needed to. It was killing him inside; he felt as if a knife was stabbed in his stomach and with every word, someone twisted it, making the wound bleed.

Harry deserved the truth.

“Do you believe in magic, Harry?” Louis whispered, so embarrassed that he couldn’t even breathe. He was shaking and Harry noticed, so he squeezed his hand.

“Mmm… I don’t know,” he answered, pursing his lips. If he found the question a little odd, he didn’t say it. “I don’t believe in Quidditch or Hogwarts, as much as I’d like to be McGonagall’s student,” he teased and Louis couldn’t help smiling. Harry had that power of making him smile even in his worst moments of fear. “The kind of magic... Those things in life you can’t explain why happened… I think that's magic, some people call them miracles, too.”

“What about spells and—?”

“Lou, I don’t understand,” Harry cut him, getting closer to Louis, still holding his hand. Louis shivered when he found his body glued to Harry’s, so easily fitting into each other. “What this has to do with—?”

“I’m cursed." He word-vomited the truth, choking on the words as he desperately tried to speak. "I’m fucking cursed. Whoever look me into my eyes is dead. Dead. Froze up like a rock.” He has hit his bottom, breaking down completely in front of Harry. He buried his face in Harry’s shoulder, hiding his face and trying to control his embarrassment. He tried to fight back his tears, but they were stronger in the end and Louis broke out in a frantic sob. “I don’t know why I have this shitty thing, Haz,” he muttered, voice drowned with tears. “It happened first when I was in kindergarten when... Something happened, and it never went away since then. My mum says I have to be hopeful, but I honestly— I can’t." His heart and body ached so much that he thought he could die anytime soon. "I hate it, Harry, I hate that I can never look into somebody’s eyes without turning them into stone. I’m the worst creature in this planet, Haz. I’m so sorry. I'm sorry pretty, I hate it.”

Louis was expecting Harry to yell at him, to push him away and run away forever. Yet of course, sweet Harry Styles just wrapped Louis with his arms and kissed the top of his head. Louis crawled in his arms and let himself be hugged by somebody who wasn’t Zayn or his mum for the very first time in his life.

Harry’s arms felt warm and safe, it gave him a strange feeling of home. He gripped Harry’s shirt with one of his tiny hands as he sobbed mutely on his chest. Harry respected him, whispering sweet nothing in his ears.

“Shh, Lou, that’s okay,” he cooed, kissing Louis’ temple. “Don’t cry, please? It’s okay, I’m here.”

 _Safe_ , Louis knew he was safe with this boy. He wanted to keep that safety forever, as much as he wanted to keep the boy who gave him that safety.  

“I’m sorry,” Louis repeated, lost for words.

“Don’t be silly, you don’t have to be sorry,” Harry whispered with a tender voice. Louis wiped his nose with the back of his hand, trying to be careful with his glasses, and leaned back in order to face his friend. “It’s not your fault.”

Harry had the worry written all over his face, his eyes were staring at Louis so intently that he feared that he might affect him even when he had his sunglasses. “I believe you. I believe you hundred percent and you don’t need to hate yourself. Some people have an illness, some people are blind, you’re just— a bit cursed, right?”

Louis didn’t say anything, astonished. Harry couldn’t be real, he couldn’t accept what happened with Louis just like this. People didn’t believe in magic.

"Harry, are you serious?" Louis wanted to be sure because you just _don't accept_  that kind of story so easily. "Aren't you... Confused?"

"Hell, of course I am, Lou," Harry admitted without hesitation. "But I care about you enough to trust you, hundred percent."

"Harry, I could be a fucking psycho lying to you and..."

Harry silenced him with a kiss on his forehead. "But you're not. Instead, you're just this boy who's so amazing and life turned against you without apparent reason."

 _Because I'm a faggot_ , Louis thought, but didn't say out loud.

"Harry... I...” He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know how to thank that immense act of trust. “Thank you," Louis whispered, words failing to explain the gratitude he felt inside. “I mean… Why?”

“I care. I will always care.”

_Louis wanted to kiss him._

He had never wanted to kiss anyone before, kisses meant dirtiness, and that kind of intimacy reminded him of what he feared the most. Yet with Harry— it wasn’t such a desire, it was a need. It was like breathing.

“Now, I’ll ask you something,” Harry said and when Louis looked up at him, they were  _dangerously_  close. Louis knew none of them were ready to close the space between them, but he ached for it. “Can you please let me see your eyes?”

“What?” Louis asked, appalled. “Harry, no! Didn’t you hear me? I can kill you! Gazing directly into my eyes, you’d be turned into stone. I’m like a fucking Medusa or some Greek shitty god.”

“I don’t care, I’m not going to see straight at your eyes,” Harry said and he didn’t smile this time, serious. “I really, really want to see your eyes. You don’t need to look at me, look down if you want, just let me see them. I want to know which color they are, at least.”

"They’re blue."

Harry was stubborn. "I want to see them."

Louis didn’t move, but he didn’t put up any resistance either. He just closed his eyes as Harry reached for his sunglasses, carefully removing them.

He kept his eyes shut, feeling the lightness on his nose; how nice it felt to be without sunglasses. Louis felt the touch of Harry’s fingers sliding by his cheekbones to end on his chin, and then the boy was kissing each one of his eyes softly.

Louis' breath caught up in his throat. Harry was kissing his curse, he was kissing what people feared the most. Louis sighed, wanting to curl up into a ball and cry forever.

He didn’t deserve Harry, yet he wanted to have him.

“Open your eyes, Louis,” Harry commanded in a soft, kindly way.

“I can’t,” Louis said huskily, and fell again on Harry’s arms, who held him tightly. “I’m so sorry. I can’t risk your life; I don't want to hurt you. I... Fucking shit, Harry, I can't even think about hurting you."

“Lou, please,” Harry begged.

Louis couldn’t. He couldn’t because the only thought of doing something hurtful to the angel he had in front of him killed him.

“I can’t. You’ll never meet my eyes, Harry. Never.”

 

**VI.**

_Reckless._

No, reckless wasn’t enough, maybe… Out of his fucking mind? Insane? Harry wasn’t sure how to label his behavior anymore. His mother would probably yell at him, forcing him to never see Louis again; but then again,  _who said magic didn’t exist_? 

Harry wasn't complaining that Louis had fallen asleep with his head on his lap that night. No, he wasn't complaining  _at all._

The boy looked down to find a peaceful sleepy Louis, looking like a helpless beautiful kitten curled up in a ball. If his heart melted at the view, nobody but Harry had to know.

Truth be told, it was a madness.

They tell you that magic doesn’t exist, that magic only lives in books... Yet there was Harry, looking after a boy whose eyes couldn’t see because that could turn him into stone. Literally.

Harry didn’t know why he needed Louis so much in his life; he just needed the reassurance that Louis was out there and he was okay. The bond they have developed couldn’t be described, it wasn’t logical, but it was strongest than anything Harry had felt before.

He believed and he didn't want it any other way.

“Harry.”

Louis’ muttered his name with fear in his voice, breaking the calm silence from the flat. He didn't open his eyes, yet he gripped Harry's leg with one of his tiny hands.

“Harry.”

Harry licked his lips, hesitant. Louis was still sleeping, he was clearly dreaming, but his voice wasn’t exactly the voice of someone who’s having a nice dream. “No. Please.”

Harry opened his mouth to speak when Louis suddenly woke up. He was gasping, and as soon as he realized where he was, he sat up on the couch, letting go of Harry and sliding by the couch until he was curled up into a ball in the corner.

He was awake, apparently, but he kept his eyes shut, rocking himself back and forth.

"I'm not a faggot," he stuttered, hiding his face in his hands. "Please, leave me alone. I'm not a faggot. The curse is not my fault."

Harry was shocked, lost for words. He didn’t know what to do because he wasn’t expecting this. Louis was crying in front of him, repeating ‘ _sorry_ ’ as a mantra, scared.

Harry tried to do his best to keep his serenity.

"Louis. Lou, baby," Harry said softly, reaching to grab Louis' hand. “Hey, pretty, it’s me. Harry.”

"The curse is not my fault," Louis kept repeating with a husky voice. “Not my fault. I’m not a faggot.”

“I know, baby. I know,” Harry whispered. Louis let him hold his hand, breaking into helpless sobs as soon as their finger were intertwined. “I’m here. I know the curse is not your fault. I don’t care, Lou, I want you. I’m so happy when I’m with you, I’m not scared.” He wasn’t really sure of what he was saying, but he tried to speak only with love and adoration.

When Louis heard his voice, he stopped murmuring nonsense, frozen on his place. He squeezed his hand and Louis returned the squeeze, shaking.

Louis remained a good amount of time in silence, coming back to reality, his breathing recovering its normal rhythm. The sigh was heartbreaking for Harry, Louis was so broken and hurt and he didn’t know why.

His hand never let go of Harry's; for the very first time since Louis had confessed him about his magic curse, Harry's curiosity grew actually bigger.

After a long time on silence, Harry tried speaking, “Can I hug you, Lou?”

Harry was tempted to fucking kiss him, yet he didn’t do it.

Louis’s expression softened at the question and nodded with the head. He wiped his tears with the back of his hand and nodded, “Please.”

Harry’s arms were quickly wrapping around Louis’ waist, pulling him close, bodies pressed against each other as never before. He breathed in the scent of the boy, desperately seeking his warmth.

Who cared whatever magic shit Louis had on him? Harry didn’t care. He didn’t care that it sounded mental as fuck, he didn’t care that Louis might be dangerous.

He only cared about Louis’ happiness, and if helping him could do anything to give him that happiness, Harry was willing to try. Louis meant too much for him.

_Louis meant the world._

The older boy faced him, silent. Harry was aware that his limbs were entangled and their hearts were probably beating at unison.  Hi eyes dropped to Louis's lips, admiring how kissable and _inviting_ those lips were.

Louis held his breath and Harry took that as an unspoken invitation to lean in to kiss him. He just moved a bit. Louis sighed.

Everything was slow and fucking tense and Harry’s heart was beating so fast inside his chest that he thought it could jump out of it anytime soon.

“Haz,” Louis whimpered brokenly. His tiny whimper was needy, but it was also scared. “Baby.”

“Mmm?” Harry muttered, cupping his hand on Louis’ cheek. They were so close.

_So close._

“I can’t.” Louis broke the moment, burying his face in the crook of Harry's neck. “I’m sorry, Haz. I can’t. Yet.”

Harry nodded and kissed Louis on the head, ignoring the adrenaline that was rushing his blood and the neediness every muscle of his body felt, need to touch and be touched.

He ignored it for Louis.

“I shouldn’t have,” Harry apologized in a slow voice. “Really. Was it a nightmare? You were screaming, Lou."

"Yeah," Louis nodded, shutting down all possibility to keep asking. "Just... Don't let me go, Haz. Please."

He rested his head on Harry’s shoulder, snuggling against him like a kitten. Harry held him close, realizing how far gone he was for Louis.

"I’ll never leave you, Lou,” he assured, whispering. “I’ll stay as long as you want me.”

“Then you’re stuck with me, Harry Styles.”

Harry giggled and pressed a kiss to Louis' temple. "I'm happy to hear it,” he confessed, winking. “And, Lou… You're not a faggot, okay?"

Louis tensed a bit at the words, but he quickly relaxed. "Thank you, Harry."

 

**V.**

The first morning Louis woke up wrapped in Harry’s arms, it was the morning when he decided he wanted this for the rest of his life.

Harry was warm and nice against his body. He wasn’t someone who didn’t feel sticky, hurtful or sweaty.

Someone who felt like  _home_.

Harry’s body was intertwined with his in the weirdest yet most beautiful way, sleeping peacefully. Louis took benefit of the moment of liberty to stare at the boy without sunglasses, without a glass in between.

Harry’s features were something that was worth staring at.

He slid the tip of his finger by his cheekbone, ending on his lips, lips that were reddish and chapped. He wished he could have the guts to kiss them.

Harry sighed as Louis caressed him, snuggling against him, still lost in the infinity of his dreams. Louis felt his heart clenching at the sweetness of the moment, moment he knew he was going to keep in his heart forever.

And just like that, _he knew._

He knew it was more than a friendship, it was something only a few lucky people found in their lives. He knew it was it. He knew Harry was the one.

“I love you,” he whispered even when he knew Harry didn’t hear him.

He did, he loved him. The feeling he had developed for his boy made him feel weirdly happy and safe; it was so easy to say it, because he did love Harry.

He leaned in, kissing his forehead silently, standing there, face to face with the boy who had stolen his heart and soul, making of him the happiest person.

Their story was so unusual. Louis didn’t have to think about it: the way he felt around Harry wasn’t similar to what he felt with Zayn, not in the slightest. It was different. It was nice. It was madness, but somehow he was sure he had found his missing part.

Harry growled in his sleep, attempting to bury his face on Louis’ chest, snuggling closer, which was physically impossible. Louis giggled and closed his eyes, sharing a pillow because even the space in the bed seemed too wide, and right then a manly and husky voice broke the silence.

“I know you are staring, Tomlinson.”

“Shut up, Harold,” Louis whispered, grinning happily. “Good morning to you.”

Harry pressed his face against Louis’s chest, putting soft little kisses on his bare skin. They had fallen asleep on the bed after a whole night of movies and ice cream together. It wasn’t the first time they spent an entire day glued to each other, but it was the first time reality knocked Louis out.

He loved the boy in his arms.

“I didn’t realize when I fell asleep,” Harry muttered, his breathing hitting Louis’ tanned skin. “Do you… do you mind that we… cuddled?”

"I wouldn't be here if minded, love."

“Well, maybe you were trying to be nice to me.”

“I’m not that kind of person,” Louis replied as his fingertips stroked Harry’s back. He had his eyes closed; he could feel the way Harry’s chest was moving to the rhythm of his breathing.

They were so close and so attached to the other, they were falling hard and Louis didn’t mind.

They turned silent again before Harry finally spoke out, “Lou?”

“Yes?”

“I have a theory,” he started talking as he poked his head up. Louis’ eyes were still close, but Harry didn’t mind, because he liked how Louis looked without sunglasses even when he couldn’t see him.

“That sounds like a problem,” Louis teased him, as he could picture Harry’s pouting grumpily at him. “Tell me.”

“Hum— What if your curse can be broken with a true love kiss?”

Louis laughed softly, shaking his head. He kissed Harry on his messy curls, “Too much Disney movies, dork.”

“I mean it!” Harry protested, huffily. “You don’t know it.”

“Do you wanna know what I think?” Louis asked and his hand glided by Harry’s arm, finishing in his hand, hand he hold. “I think you’re just trying to find an excuse to kiss me.”

Harry swallowed hard and tried to hide the smirk on his face. He blushed, getting closer to Louis, their mouth riskily close. Louis took a deep breath, feeling Harry’s lips brushing against his, but not touching them.

“Maybe,” Harry whispered and his voice sounded husky as Louis never heard before. It was a plea, a needy voice filled with arousal and devotion.

They were the same feeling Louis had inside.

“If you never try, Haz,” he whispered, feeling the way Harry’s fingertip slid by his collarbones, “you will never know.”

With his eyes closed, he could feel the moment when Harry leaned into and joined their lips in a kiss. Louis gasped as soon as their lips met, every muscle of his body got captivated by some kind of electric feeling that had total control over him.

The younger boy didn’t attempt to deepen the kiss, waiting for Louis, who quickly wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck and pulled him closer.

He slid his tongue by Harry’s thin lips, who quickly opened his mouth, letting Louis taste him. The kiss turned into a sloppy and gasping mess of tongues intertwined and lips wet with saliva. Louis felt how Harry slowly turned around until he was on top on him, so he had to lean up a bit to keep their mouths together.

“Lou,” Harry gasped as he broke the kiss. Louis wanted so hard to open his eyes, the urge he had to look at Harry, to read in his eyes what he was thinking, what he wanted… _It was too much_. He could barely control it, yet he knew he had to.

“Hey, beautiful,” Harry whispered, his voice so full of fondness that it made Louis’ stomach clench a little He leaned down and kissed Louis’ forehead tenderly. “I like you, Louis. A lot.”

Louis smiled warmly at his boy and reached to his face, sliding his fingers over Harry’s puffy lips, imagining the way they could look.

“Haz,” he whispered, a little brokenly. “You don’t know how much I’d give to be able to look at you right now.”

 

**VI.**

They started dating… Or something like that. None of them talked about the label, but honestly, the feeling they had for each other was too special and too big for a label.

Harry’s family met Louis, Louis’ family met Harry. They fitted so well into each other’s lives that sometimes it felt surreal. Harry started to spend more time at Louis’ house than in his own, his mother didn’t complain because he saw how happy his son was.

_They were happy._

Truly happy, and some nights Louis would take a risk, removing his sunglasses, always keeping his eyes shut, but lost in the tender caresses of his boy and the slow kisses Harry gave to him.

Harry was always so gentle with him, kissing his skin, his lips and his eyes as he whispered sweet words of love and promises of eternal love, a love Louis decided to believe in for now.

The feeling began to grow, as well as their need to feel each other on a deeper level. Kisses were failing on melting them the way they wanted to be melted.

Louis knew that nothing could ever express what he felt for Harry, but it was something— A way of committing himself to Harry and only Harry for as long as he wanted him.

It was Harry the one who made the first step.

“Lou.” His voice was usually raspy at those late hours of the night, wrapped in Louis. “I— was wondering. Did you— make love? I mean—” Harry silenced before finishing the question.

The innocence in Harry’s question melted Louis’ heart. His way of asking about _making love_ and not just  _fucking around_ ; he was as special as that. That boy was surely unique in the world.

“No,” Louis answered, softly. The moment felt like porcelain, delicate and so easy to break. “I actually never made love. Someone—” He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to keep his self-control. “Fucked me, which is different. I never made love to anyone because— I have never been in love.” He ignored the little voice inside his mind that tell him that yes, he was in love. He was in love right now, with the boy right in front of him. “I never felt that connection. I mean, yeah, I was fucked, but when it comes to that feeling people talk about being one and sharing an orgasm— never happened,” he explained with a weak voice. He sighed loudly and buried his face on Harry’s chest, the younger boy sensing that sex was a delicate subject for Louis. “I’m such a fucking corny arse.”

“No, Lou,” Harry shook his head, squeezing the boy in his arms. “I think it’s lovely. I agree. I never made love to anyone either,” he said, rubbing Louis’ back tenderly. He was so gentle with him, so caring. He has figured Louis needed tender and that was he was giving to him. “Never felt the need to. I needed to fuck and just that.”

Louis noticed the use of past tense, and it actually made his curiosity grow bigger. “What do you need now, Harry?”

Harry stared at him, silent. Those green eyes of him were yelling, screaming his love for Louis, but Louis was afraid to yell back.

“You know what I need,” Harry whispered, his heart beating so fucking erratically inside his chest that he swore the whole town could hear it.

The time and the minutes stopped for a moment, Louis couldn’t hear anything except Harry’s breathing. They were so close yet so far, the inches between them felt like an abyss and Louis hoped Harry would have been ready to jump.

Louis felt the sudden urge to be taken, seeking more than simple contact with Harry. He wanted to be touched _again_ , to wash away his dirtiness and give himself to Harry.

“Make love to me, Harry,” Louis pleaded in a weak voice. His voice came out husky, small and temptress; it wrapped Harry and made him feel shivers running down his spine. “Please.”

“How do you know it? How do you know it isn’t just sex with you?”

The moment was so intense that Louis couldn’t even breathe. Harry kissed him softly, squeezing his hand a little rougher, but Louis didn’t complain because he knew the boy was only trying to find a way to express his mess of emotions.

“I just know,” Louis replied, getting drunk on Harry’s kisses.

Louis’ mouth fitted perfectly against his, and as soon as their lips touched, everything fit in its place for him.

He was where he was supposed to be. He was with his boy.

Louis gasped into the kiss, licking Harry’s lower lip, asking him for entrance. Harry didn’t let him, though.

“I kind… more than like you, Louis,” he muttered, licking the trace of Louis’ saliva from his lips. “‘ _Like you’_ isn’t enough. Shit, I’m talking nonsense.”

“No, angel,” Louis said, encouraging. “I actually feel the same way.”

Louis saw Harry’s eyes growing wet, but he knew it wasn’t for sadness. It was because sometimes, when he didn’t know how to express his feeling, tears did it for him.

Harry grabbed Louis’ hand and reached them to his lip. He kissed his fingers, never breaking eye contact with Louis despite him being with his eyes closed, and then he opened his mouth and sucked them.

Louis felt the wetness on his fingers, Harry’s tongue curling around them, and it was enough to make his cock twitch in his pants. He made a tiny moan, desperate to see Harry, to feel him.

Louis was burning into flames of desire. Desire he hadn’t felt for a long, long time.

“Lou,” Harry whimpered, going down to give Louis’ neck a little of attention. He sucked onto his skin, making Louis react in the most beautiful ways, wanting him.  "You’re obscenely beautiful.”

"I wish I could—" Louis gasped, but the rest of his sentence got lost when Harry shoved down and rocked his, rubbing their dick against the soft material of their boxes. "Fuck."

"You wish you could—?” Harry panted, his voice sounding as needy and lustful as never before.

Inside Harry’s mind, the surprise was evident. He was usually the one who get fucked, yet the feeling he had for Louis made him want to give him the best. It made him want to make the boy enjoy the pleasure of having him inside, the pleasure of being full.

"I wish I could see you," Louis whimpered and Harry rubbed a little faster, tiny and needy moans escaping his mouth. Louis stopped him, clutching his hips, and told him, "don’t want to come like this.”

"I wasn’t planning to," Harry smirked, leaning down to capture his plump lips in a heated kiss. "I’m just making you needy.”

Harry was smirking against Louis’ lips, the little shit. As punishment, Louis nibbled his lower lip a little hard, which made the younger boy moan.

“Harry, please, cover my eyes,” Louis begged before they could go any farther. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But Lou—”

Louis cut him. “Do as I told you, pretty.”

Harry sighed loudly, giving up. He moves in bed and Louis guessed he was about to do what he was told. Seconds later, a soft scarf was wrapping around Louis’ head, covering his eyes, and the smell of Harry was everywhere around him, intoxicating him.

“God, this smells like you,” Louis gasped, as he felt Harry’s hand running down his belly. “It drives me insane.”

“That’s the plan, Lou,” Harry said and the smirk was palpable on his voice. "Take off your shirt, Louis."

The order hit Louis. 

"Harry," Louis stopped him, sharp. "Don't tell me what to do." He was serious, almost mean when he talked. He knew it was out of the blue, but he couldn't be bossed around. He hated to be ordered when he was being intimate. When he was having sex, h _e needed to be in control_. "Do as you're told to."

Harry submitted at his desires as a lost puppy. "Yes, Louis," he agreed, quietly.

"Good boy. Now, undress me."

Harry was so docile, quickly doing as Louis had told him. They were naked in a blink of an eye, and if Harry’s warmth burned Louis’ body normally, now skin to skin it was a volcano of sexual arousal and sensations he couldn’t even describe.

Louis knew he would have to explain later, but right now, he didn't care. He needed Harry, he wanted to feel him in a deeper level, but he wasn't willing to give up on his control for that. He was in charge.

“You're such an obedient boy,” he whimpered pleasingly, seeking his kisses. "So good to me."

They rolled on the bed until Harry was lying on top of Louis. The younger boy was gasping; eyes beautify glassed out and lustful, locked on Louis; who had his swollen lips furiously red and his hair disheveled and messy.

The scarf wrapped around his head made him look gorgeous in a very obscene way, ready to be taken, which turned Harry on more than what it should.

Louis couldn’t see, but he could certainly touch. His tiny hands travelled by Harry’s body, while drawing a map of his boy on his mind. He found Harry’s sensible stops, he found four nipples, and he found the places where his milky skin was a little dry.

“You’re beautiful,” Louis gasped, knowing exactly where to touch to make Harry react with a tiny moan of desire. “My Harry Styles.”

“My Louis Tomlinson,” Harry said back, gasping. Louis lost himself in the deepness of Harry’s voice for a moment as his hands explored the curves of his ass.

"Kiss me again," Louis ordered, clutching Harry’s ass cheeks as he reached up in search of him. Harry closed the distance between them, rocking his hips together in a gentle way, hardens rubbings against each other.

They kept kissing every single millimeter of their bodies. Louis thought he could burn and melt in any second because the mere feeling of Harry’s mouth again his skin made him lose his sanity in the most luscious and pleasant way.

"Lube?" Harry asked, breaking the kiss.

"Suck me off first, please, princess," Louis ordered, trying to grasp Harry’s curls. When he found his hair, he pulled it a little, getting the exact response he wanted from Harry: a whimper and his body shaking with arousal.

God, it was so surreal. They found each other’s sweet spots so well.

“Would you, baby?”

Harry didn’t answer with words, he put open mouth kisses all along Louis’ skin to his lower belly while his long finger traced the lines of his hipbones.

Louis was gasping noisily, feeling his cock impossible harder at this point. When Harry reached his lower belly, he felt his breathing against his skin. He knew the boy was teasing. He pulled from Harry’s hair harder, commanding him.

When Harry’s mouth wrapped around Louis’s dick, the older boy screamed his name and sounded so wrecked that Harry had to do his best to ignore the ache of his own cock, which was too hard to resist.

Harry sucked up and down as Louis forced him to go deeper, making him choke with his dick, but Harry never complained. He deepthroated him without complaining.

When he felt Louis was close, his hands teased his balls as he gave kitten licks to the tip of his dick.

Louis came with a cry of Harry’s name in his mouth, and he felt it, he felt how Harry’s tongue licked every drop of his come, swallowing him like a very good boy.

He’d have given everything to see him at that moment.

"God, Harry, you’re an angel," Louis gasped. Harry moved out from bed, leaving a wrecked Louis lying on it, coming back from his high. When he came back, he rested his fingers against Louis’ tights, fingers that wet with a cold substance.

“Got lube,” Harry explained, voice hoarse. “Can I make you mine?" he whispered, submissive.

"Please, baby," he nodded and Harry leaning into kiss Louis, who was tired, but not enough to stop Harry from fucking him.

“Condom?”

“No,” Louis said, emphatic. “I’m clean. Are you?”

“I am, but… You sure?”

“Positive.”

Harry refused to let go of Louis’ mouth for a long time, so he kissed him deeply, sliding his finger by Louis’s body, making him shiver because the lube was cold.

“Come on, Haz, stop teasing me,” Louis commanded, finding that Harry liked to be bossed around.

Harry’s big hands went straight to his ass, softly stroking his rim before he finally shoved a finger inside him, making him gasps on need.

"God," Louis choked, as Harry kissed his neck. "God, I forgot how good it feels." He wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist to give him a better access.

Harry worked a little with one finger before pressing in two at the same time, by Louis’ command. He loved the sensation of being full, and Harry’s finger were so long, perfect to hit the right places, places Louis couldn’t reach with his tiny fingers.

“I’m doing okay?” Harry asked as he hit Louis’ prostate. He was looking for reassurance not because he was insecure, just because he was this sort of little boy who wanted to constantly have Louis’ approval.

"Yeah, baby boy,” Louis assured, as he clutched his ass around Harry’s fingers and tried to fuck him.

"I love your sounds, Lou," Harry said in a low voice before removing his fingers and lubing his hard cock.

Louis had his legs spread, waiting for Harry to come. When Harry settled in between, the older boy wrapped his legs around his waist and his hands looked for Harry’s hard cock. When he gripped it, Harry moaned loudly.

“Haz, you’re so big,” Louis panted, placing the tip of Harry’s dick on his entrance.

“Just for you.”

It was painfully beautiful the way they developed a dynamic on bed. Louis hated feeling vulnerable, but he loved being fucked. Harry didn’t mind, as long as he could feel Louis, but he loved being bossed.

It worked for them.

“Move now, baby.”

Harry did as he was told, pressing in. Louis opened his mouth in a silent cry of pleasure mixed up with pain, a bittersweet sensation he loved to feel. Harry waited until Louis ordered him to go further, quickly building up a rhythm as he got inside him.

Louis’ body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, shaking with every single one of Harry’s thrust. He moaned soft _‘ah, ah’_ and incoherence where the only comprehensible thing was Harry’s name.

Harry couldn’t think straight anymore, somehow, Louis with his scarf and sweat and expression of bliss on his face sent him over the edge. He kept thrusting inside Louis, feeling the most stronger and strange kind of ecstasy filling his body and taking control of his brain.

"Harder, Harry," he ordered, Harry obeyed, speeding up his rhythm. 

Louis felt needles and pins on his lower belly, his second orgasm building up. He digged his nails on Harry's back, probably leaving marks, but none of them care. The sensation of being melting together was too much, was blowing their minds, fading away everything except each other.

"Louis, I'm close," Harry whimpered, voice weak.

"You can't come until I do."

"Okay," he gasped, obedient.

Harry shoved one more time before Louis reached his climax with a cry of his name. Harry didn't come until Louis let him. When he came, he filled Louis completely, both high on their climaxes, their minds lost any bit of sanity, only focused on the bond that they were sealing right then.

Breathing faltering, they collapsed on bed, staring at the ceiling, still holding hands. Louis was in subspace, his mind blank except for the thoughts of _Harry Harry Harry_. When his boy squeezed his hand and called is name, he came back to earth.

Louis curled up against Harry, the boy quickly wrapped him in his arms and covered their sweaty bodies with a blanket. He kissed the top of his boy’s head and his hands found the scarf. He was about to take it off when Louis stopped him. “No.”

“Lou— there’s no danger anymore. We’re going to fall asleep pretty soon, anyway.”

Louis shut his eyes. The feelings he has moments ago made everything more— easier to understand. They were in love. So in love that ached.

His and Harry’s heart beat with the same rhythm, a rhythm that made them feel part of each other. They were two different souls, two different hearts, but beating for the same reasons: their love.

_Yes. Harry deserved it._

“Ok, babe. Go ahead.”

When Harry took off the scarf, the only thing Louis regretted was the sudden loss of Harry’s smell all over him. It was perfect.

Louis didn’t felt like a faggot. He didn’t felt vulnerable, he felt right. Content. _Full._

"Lou, baby?"

"Hum?"

"Thanks. That really was my first time making love."

The younger boy placed a finger underneath Louis’ chin, caressing his skin with his thumb before he kissed him.

Harry noticed the way silent tears had started falling down by Louis' cheeks without apparent reason.

Louis knew it was weak to cry after sex, it was so goddamn stupid, but he couldn’t help it. Harry gave him what he thought he could never have again: trust.

"God, Lou, what's wrong?” Harry asked, hugging him tighter. “Why... Lou, fuck, did I hurt you?"

"Haz, no, no. You were amazing," Louis sobbed, hiding his face on Harry's chest. "Is just... You did everything I asked. You didn’t even ask… You just trusted me."

"Of course I trust you," Harry spoke slowly, but confident. “I trust you with my life.”

"Harry you..." Louis held his breath for a moment. "Do you think I'm a faggot?"

Harry puffed as immediate answer, which made Louis feel a little self-doubting. He tried to ignore it, but then again, Harry read him like an open book.

"Louis Tomlinson, why do you keep saying such a thing about yourself?" Harry asked. "You might be gay, but you’re not a faggot. You're my sunshine and a lovely, beautiful human being."

"Th-thank yo-ou," Louis stuttered, uncertain. He didn’t understand how they had come this far, how they could built a relationship despite of his fucked up life. "Thank you for everything, Harry."

When Louis fell asleep in Harry’s arms, the younger boy started to wonder if Louis calling himself a faggot could have been related with the origin of the curse he carried with him.

 

**VII.**

Louis gave himself the benefit of the doubt. He decided to doubt. Harry was proving him wrong, he was constantly proving him that everything he thought about life and love was wrong, so he allow himself to doubt.

Doubt about his fear of never being able to settled down and raise a family despite of his curse. Doubt about his mind, who was constantly telling him how dirty he was.

He started to gain confidence again.

His words stopped echoing,  _faggot_  stopped being the word Louis used to describe himself.

Until the day that Harry appeared on his flat, drunk on his ass, to show Louis one more time that he had no right to live a normal life.

“Harry,” Louis whispered as soon as he opened the door to find a drunk Harry leaning against it. “What are you—?”

His words got caught when Harry jumped on him and hugged him tightly, joining their lips in a messy kiss. Louis couldn’t breathe; Harry’s grip was too strong, his mouth to engrossed on snogging the shit out of Louis to let him breath.

“Louis,” Harry gasped, breaking the kiss. He smelled like cheap cologne, alcohol, and sweat. Louis hated that; it wasn’t Harry’s smell. “Louis, let me see your eyes.”

“Harry, you’re drunk,” Louis muttered, reticent of letting the boy walk into the flat. Finally, he decided to trust. He grabbed Harry by his waist and closed the door, guiding him to the couch.

“I am drunk,” Harry nodded, pissed drunk. “I am because I want to ask you to show me your eyes and ask you the reason you have this curse, but I can’t if I’m sober,” Harry confessed and then laughed stupidly, throwing his head back. “I’m a coward, right?.”

Louis watched Harry tripping over his legs as he tried to settle on couch, falling from it to the ground. He tried to sit up, but he was too drunk to maintain his equilibrium, so he fell on the floor and started laughing again.

It was a pitiful scene, and Louis watched Harry go from a fucking laughing mess to a crying one. After being laughing for about ten minutes, Harry curled up on fetal position and started crying pathetically on the floor.

“I’m so selfish. I know how bad you are feeling because— because of that and I— but I— Lou,” Harry stammered, trying to talk clearly, but failing miserably. “I want you and I’m so selfish and bad and I’m a fucking dick.”

Louis kneeled down at his side and stroked Harry’s dirty curls sweetly, sighing. “Harry, you’re not a dick. You’re the sweetest guy I ever met, trust me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you are.” Louis leaned down to press a kiss to the edge of his mouth. “You’re an angel. That’s why I don’t want to risk hurting you.”

“Don’t leave me. Stay. Touch me,” Harry asked, gripping Louis’s arms with his hand. “I feel good when you touch me.”

Louis sat down on the floor and spent a long time stroking Harry’s curls, until the boy stopped crying and gained his composure back (well, the littlest one he had in that state).

He was ready to offer Harry a shower and some coffee, when the younger boy stood up out of the blue and without even asking, he snatched the sunglasses from Louis’ face.

The world stopped abruptly around Louis, the heart in his chest stopped beating for a second. His breath got caught in his throat, and when his eyes saw everything more clear and colorful, he understood he didn’t have his sunglasses.

“Harry!” Louis yelled and quickly looked down.

Harry stood in front of him, his mouth slightly open and his eyes locked on Louis’. The older boy wanted to close his eyes, but Harry had won the battle, so he stood there looking down, awkwardly silent.

“Louis,” Harry whispered and got closer to Louis. His gangly legs didn’t failed him this time, so he could pull him into a tight embrace. “You’re eyes— they’re blue. Like the sea. Like the sky.”

Harry closed the distance between them, kissing Louis. The kiss was wet and messy, but the older boy closed his eyes and let his body be controlled by the sensation of Harry’s lips against his. He held his breath, so scared and lost in the feeling of the silent kiss Harry gave him.

“Harry,” he gasped and he wanted to stop because Harry was drunk, but he couldn’t. He ached for the boy so much.

“I’m in love with you, Louis Tomlinson.”

Minutes later, Harry passed out on the couch.

 

**VIII.**

“Harry! What are you doing here? It’s so good to see you!”

That Saturday morning, Harry surprised Jay when she was walking into her home, carrying a lot of shopping bags. After his horrible drunken incident, Harry was reluctant to talk with Louis again and tried his best to ignore the fact that Louis has not spoken a word to him.

“Hey, Jay. Do you need help?” he offered, quickly taking the heaviest bags.

“Oh, thanks, dear.”

They carried all the bags to the kitchen, where Harry helped Jay to organize the food. Once they were finished, she offered Harry a cup of tea, cup he gladly accepted.

“Louis isn’t here,” she said before making the tea. “He’s—”

“I’m not here for him,” Harry interrupted her, serious. “I wanted to speak with you, if it’s not a problem, of course.”

Jay frowned and studied Harry with a careful gaze until she nodded with the head. “Of course it’s not a problem, darling. I’m going to make that cup of tea I promised you.”

Jay made two cups of tea for them and they sat down on the kitchen. Harry was trying to find the words to speak to Jay without much of a trouble. It wasn’t just the fact that Jay was Louis’s mother, but also the fact that Harry cared too much for the boy.

Being nice with Jay, someone who meant so much for Louis, was really important for him.

He finally decided to speak with the truth. “I know about Louis and his eyes.”

Jay nodded with the head. “I know, Harry. Louis told me.”

“Can I—?” he shut his mouth because what he was about to say was risky. He tried to formulate his doubts inside his mouth before speaking out. “I’m not scared of him, you know?”

“In this family we have tried to support him since he discovered what his eyes did.”

“Is it possible that—?”

He didn’t continue talking. Jay was staring at him with those curious eyes of a mother worried about his son, but also with a hint of indulgence of someone who knew better.

Harry wanted to explain to her, tell her how much Louis meant for him, but he wasn’t sure if he could explain it with the right words.

Thanks of God, Harry wasn’t good with his words, but Jay was good understanding his thoughts. She nodded again and tenderly squeezed Harry’s hand.

“He did it too,” she muttered, looking straight at Harry. The young boy wished Louis could stare at him as his mother did. “He fell in love with you, too. I know my son.”

“How do I tell him? He thinks I’m mental. He thinks he’s a monster. I…I’m so sorry; I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like… Louis is the most beautiful thing I have in my life.”

Jay smiled as she listened to Harry’s words. She stood up and approached to him, patting his back kindly. Harry thanked her understanding as well as the time she was spending with him.

“He says you’re his angel, you know that? I know my son, dear, he’s so in love with you,” she explained, but her voice wasn’t all happy and cheerful. Harry’s stomach twisted, sensing that was something more, something else Jay wasn’t saying. “Go and tell him, darling. Tell him. He needs to hear those words.”

“But—”

Jay sighed, looking down at her feet. She spent some minutes like that after she came back to her seat. By the look in her eyes, Harry could tell she was trying to tell him something.

He respected her time, keeping the silence until Jay looked up at him with her eyes visibly watery.

"We didn’t know what was happening," Jay explained and Harry understood that talking about the matter was really hard for her. That was why he really treasured every single one of her words and listened to her patiently. "He was five. He was just in kindergarten and— " Jay broke into sobs. She wiped her tears and took a deep breath. "I’m sorry, Harry."

"No, Jay, there’s no need to apologize."

"Well, Louis, my beloved son, he liked boys since ever. I knew it because you just know when you’re a mother. Five years old is too young, too young to start ruining them." Harry felt chills, the kind of chills that anticipate fear, the kind of chills that came with and unpleasant and bittersweet sensation in his gut. "Well, this teacher of him started abusing my Louis. He told him a lot of horrible things, and Louis never spoke a word to us. Zayn, his best friend, found out, thanks of him we could finally know. They sent the man to jail, but the damage was already done. Louis couldn’t see any more without turning people into stone."

Harry ran lost for word. Louis, _his_ Louis has been abused. Everything fell into place. Louis’ hesitancy to be touched, the lack of _‘I love you’s’_ , the difficulty to gain trust in people, the need to be in control when they were on their intimacy.

"That’s so—"

"Impossible," Jay inhaled, she was sobbing again now. Harry gave her a tender pat on her back; the woman smiled at him as a silent way of saying thanks. "I know, we couldn’t believe it at first. It’s magic, nobody understands. We believed because we saw what happened. This world has a lot of tricks on the sleeve, and Louis’ problem is one of them."

"It’s the best thing that could have happened," Harry said honestly, because thinking about the whole damage Louis could have held after the situation, being cursed was the littlest one.

Brusquely, Harry found out that he hated the idea of Louis being hurt. He fucking hated it with his whole heart.

"Years later, Louis told us something: every time the teacher beat him, he told him the same thing." She had to breathe in order to repeats those words, " _’you are a faggot; I can see it in your eyes, and eyes don’t lie_.'” 

Harry stared at her, unable to speak a word.

The world was a strange, tricky and mysterious place. The world had thousands of things nobody could explain. In that moment, Harry was sure about two facts: if he ever saw the teacher, he would shoot him on the forehead without shaking. Second, he wanted nothing but to give Louis the protection and the love he never had, but he deserved so much.

He loved Louis Tomlinson. There wasn’t way back from that.

“But don’t worry, Harry, darling. If you two love each other, you’ll find a way, eventually. I mean, about his eyes.”

Harry believed in Jay. He did it with all his heart.

 

**IX.**

“Lou? Lou, are you here?”

Harry slowly walked inside Louis’s room. He already had the keys of Louis and Zayn’s apartment, so it wasn’t hard for him to sneak in.

That day, he found Zayn on the living room, who told him that Louis was made a piece of shit in his room, refusing to eat or do anything else besides play FIFA and watch Iron Man over and over again.

Harry ran to his room, where he found Louis fast asleep on his desk, with his face resting against and open book. His thin lips were slightly parted, and his soft breathing was the only sound in the room.

Harry smiled at the view and sat down next to him. The boy didn’t wake up, too tired to even notice Harry’s presence. The young boy slid his fingers by Louis’ arm while he hummed a song. Louis growled in his dreams, his expression softened. Harry liked to know that he had an effect on Louis even when he was asleep.

"You’re my sunlight, Lou” Harry whispered, full of love and adoration. “My whole world.”

Louis growled at his touch and wrinkled his nose, leaning into Harry’s touch. Harry giggled and whispered, “Hi, Lou.”

“Harry?” Louis mumbled, still a bit asleep. He didn’t open his eyes, but his hand looked for Harry’s, to check if he was there. Harry quickly intertwined their fingers with his free hand, while the other kept caressing his hair.

“I’m sorry for being here. You gave me the key.”

Louis stood silent for a while, silent that was broken by a wide yawn. Harry stared at him, thinking about everything Jay had told him and wondering why life could have been so mean with Louis, his precious Louis, who was pure light and kindness to the world.

“That’s fine,” Louis said with a husky voice. “I know.”

“Are you mad at me? Because what I did the other day,” Harry asked, and he was glad Louis had his eyes closed because he was damn blushing and his eyes were turning wet. “I’m so sorry, Lou. I’m—”

Louis squeezed his hand tenderly. “That’s fine, angel. I’m the one who has to be sorry. I don’t know how in hell I thought you could… Hurt me.”

Harry bit his tongue, trying to find if telling Louis that he had talked with his mum was acceptable or not. He decided to tell him because he didn’t want to have any secrets between them.

What he had with Louis was too precious to ruin it with a secret.

“I talked to your mum, Lou. She— she told me.”

Louis froze up. He stood up, keeping his eyes closed, standing motionless for a moment in front of Harry. He didn’t even look for his sunglasses, which were on the desk. Harry felt his whole body shaking with fear and the insecurity of making his baby uncomfortable, something he couldn’t stand.

“The fucker is in jail,” he finally said with a weak voice, walking towards the bed. Harry guided him silently, holding his hand.

“I know,” Harry nodded once they collapsed on the bed.

_You are a faggot, I can see it in your eyes, and eyes don’t lie._

Louis’s body shook with grief. He hadn’t thought about it for _so long_. So long, feeling that he had finally found someone to— protect him.

“I’d be glad if he wants to look into my eyes now. The eyes of a faggot,” he snorted out and laughed bitterly, without a hint of happiness on his usually beautiful laughter.

“Lou, I’m so sorry. I wish I could do something to make it better.”

“Harry, this is not your fault. You don’t need to do anything.”

“No, you don’t understand, I need to,” he insisted, and he realized he had started to cry silently. Words couldn’t explain what he felt for Louis, the pain he felt for what Louis had been through. He wanted to make it better. “Baby, you don’t have any idea of how much you mean to me. When your mum told me your story, I wanted to found the guy and shoot the shit out of him, and I’m generally a passive person. I can’t stand the idea of you being hurt, Louis, I honestly can’t. I feel like I’m drowning,” he paused for a moment, and then went on, “I think— I love you with everything that I have and also with everything I have not. I love you, Louis Tomlinson. Please, believe me.”

Louis didn’t think. He didn’t; he just opened his eyes and stared at the boy who had stolen his heart and made his life brighter. He just made what lovers like to do: stare at each other, feel the love between them and share it within the eyes.

He locked his blue eyes on Harry’s green, finding him endearing with his dirty hair and his teary face.

It was electric. A blast of excitement, devoutness, love and something Louis had never felt before. It was the summer, winter, spring and autumn together. It was just a glance, straight to his soul; open heart to open heart, exposing their souls, thoughts and minds.

_I can see it in your eyes, and eyes don’t lie._

Louis looked at him, and then realized.

Harry turned completely pale and widened his eyes. Louis felt his heart jump out of his chest and quickly shut his eyes.

“Harry, no!” he yelled hysterically. He suddenly felt his world crumbling around him, and even breathing started to be difficult. He tried to grip Harry’s hand with his, and when he found that Harry was completely still, he fell in panic.

He attempted to stand up, but his muscles didn’t respond to him. He tried desperately to scream for help, for voice didn’t come to his help. He tried to roll around and wrap his arms around Harry, but his body wasn’t his body anymore.

That was when he realized that Harry was crying and screaming his name, grabbing him by his arms and shaking his body. _Harry was crying_. So Harry wasn’t turning into stone.

That was when he realized that everything that was supposed to be happening to Harry, was happening to him instead.

 

**X.**

Harry looked up and found Zayn walking into the room. He smiled weakly at him when their gazes met; the brown haired guy sat down on the edge of the bed staring at the frozen boy who was lying beside Harry.

Louis was as still and cold as a rock on the bed, rigid and pale with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling he wasn’t seeing.

His heart kept beating under his skin, but nothing else worked on him. He was made of rock.

Harry hadn’t left his side even when Jay asked for it, even when his mum and sister tried to think logically with him.

No. For Harry, Louis couldn’t be gone.

"Hi."

"Hey, Haz," Zayn spoke in a soft and tender way that was unusual for him. "How are you?"

It was a stupid question, really.  _Utterly useless_. Harry didn’t take it bad; he just sighed and hoped that Zayn could understand that he wasn’t ready to give him an answer.

Harry rested his head close to Louis’s again and after remaining there in silence for a while, he spoke out. “It didn’t work.”

"What, Haz?" Zayn asked, patting his friend's legs kindly.

"A true love kiss," Harry said and his voice broke at the end, silent tears streaming down his face. "I already kissed Louis a lot and he didn’t wake up. And I love him. Truly."

Harry buried his face on the pillow, gripping Louis’ shirt, that shirt he has been holding since he froze up. Zayn stood up and walked towards him, sitting by his side. “Hey, Harry, I’m so sorry,” he said, caressing his back, trying to calm him.

"It didn’t work. What if— he doesn’t love me back?"

“Haz, I know you love him. It’s pretty obvious that you do,” he explained, and Harry turned to him, his swollen and watery eyes curious. “And, for God’s sake, Louis took your place, he take the reins of his own curse and accepted its effect to avoid hurting you. I honestly don’t know how the fuck that happened or how did he do it; but that speaks more than any shitty word or love confession. Louis loves you more than anything in this world.”

“I’d rather be the one turned into stone. I don’t want Louis to stop living just to save me.”

Zayn rolled his eyes and bit his lower lip, shaking his head in frustration.

“This is the thing with love… I don’t get it. I mean, you want to die for Louis; Louis wants to die for you— I honestly will never, ever understand the love you have, lad. I’m aware that it’s beyond my understanding.”

Zayn spend some time stroking Harry’s back, trying to comfort him, but he finally walked away, knowing that _there_  simply  _wasn't_  anything he could actually  _do._  

Harry curled up against Louis’ motionless body and wrapped him in his arms. He kissed his cheeks and his lips, sweetly and softly as he knew Louis liked it, and whispered helpless ‘ _I love yous_ ’ until his voice failed him.

He fell asleep with his boy in his arms, refusing to believe that Louis had left him and refusing to believe that a stupid curse could be more powerful that the love they have for each other.

 

**XI.**

Louis didn’t feel. He didn’t feel anything at all. He could only hear. Hear Harry’s sobs, his mother’s yells. The blame Jay threw at Harry. More crying.

_You are a faggot; I can see it in your eyes._

Yes, Louis knew. He knew his eyes were an open door to his soul. No, he hadn’t let anyone look into his eyes again, he protected his heart. He could only hear.

He could hear but not feel. He heard his boy. Why was Harry crying? Why was Zayn asking Harry to eat? Why did Jay say Harry was guilty?

_Eyes don’t lie._

No, of course not, eyes don’t lie. Nobody could see into his eyes so nobody could find his lies. He could made up a perfect façade and make people believe it because they couldn’t see his eyes, so they didn’t know the truth.

Harry didn’t think he was a faggot. Harry didn’t care if he was a faggot. Harry was an angel made from heaven to protect Louis.

Louis hadn’t felt violated with him.

Blame was never on Harry. Louis heard his mum. He didn’t know if it was night or day, he didn’t know what time was. He knew and felt nothing.

He only heard Harry. And he realized that Harry begged him to stay. But he wasn’t going anywhere.

_You’re a faggot; I can see it in your eyes, and eyes don’t lie._

Yes, and Louis protected himself. He didn’t know how he did it, it just happened. He put a barrier between him and the people, and lied. Lied because nobody could find out the truth about his real self.

 _Eyes don’t lie._  That was why Louis chose to stop allowing people to look into his eyes: to lie to them.

Louis didn’t want to lie to Harry,  _not anymore._

 

**XII.**

"Harry?"

Harry knew his mum far too well, he could easily feel the worry and the urge to preach him in her voice.

Anne sat by his side on the couch where the long-limbed boy was pitifully curled up, cup of tea on his hands. He didn't raise his eyes to her. He didn't even have forces to do such an easy motion.

"Darling," Anne said, stroking his son’s messy hair. "Jay is in his room. She's having a moment with him."

Harry nodded with the head and muffled a sob. He felt as if something was ripped off his chest, as if someone was kicking his head with a big stick and, every time he thought it was over,  _bump_ , the stick kicked him again.

He never thought a human being could feel such a big nothingness inside.

"Harry, I... You need to eat, sweetheart" she said, caring.

"I need Louis." Harry's voice came out hoarse and a bit croaked, as someone who hadn’t has talked in quite a long time. 

Anne sighed and closed her eyes; Harry knew she was trying really hard and he was grateful for that, yet he couldn't find the way of being nice because the light of his life was missing.

"She doesn't blame you." Anne spoke the exact words that Harry desperately wanted to hear.

Since the incident, Louis's family has been treating him distantly and coldly, nothing as they treated him before.

The only one who didn't seem to blame Harry was Zayn, who knew Louis well enough to know that he was gone for him.

Harry understood them anyway; he honestly did, because Louis turned into rock just to... To something like _save_ him. 

"How do you know?" He asked his mother. Even when he wanted to believe in Anne's words, half of him wanted to hear that Jay hated him, because part of him honestly blamed him for what happened.

"She told me," she explained, looking right at his son. "We talked yesterday, she’s really scared but she doesn’t blame you, sweetie."

"Mum," Harry gasped brokenly and started to cry for the hundredth time. He slid by the couch, wanting nothing but the warm and the comfort of his mother, snuggling against his mother's body. Anne welcomed him on her arms like when he was little. "God, mum, I can't properly function without him. How am I supposed to… live? He’s my life."

"I know," she said, kissing his head. "Jay knows, too. She also knows that Louis didn't want to hurt you."

"'S all my fault, anyway," he hiccuped, clutching his mum's shirt and silently seeking her calming words.

"No, dear, is not. It's nobody's fault but whoever hurt Louis in the past. And that's just past. You are his future."

"I need him. He's so beautiful inside and out, and he doesn't let other people see it. He's... Such a beautiful soul. I need to have him. He deserves to be happy, that's the only reason why I would want this curse to be finally broken," Harry said, trying to get into the idea that maybe Louis wouldn't be human never again.

The idea scared the shit out of him and made him dizzy.

"Did you tell Louis that?"

"I did," Harry nodded.

"I mean, now. Did you tell him those things?"

"I did, mum."

Anne smiled at him. "Then I'm sure Louis knows."

"It hurts, anyway,” he sniffed. “Mum."

"Shhh, baby." Anne drew circles on Harry's back and chatted him a bit more, until the sound of steps broke the bubble between them. Jay appeared in the room and locked eyes with Harry as soon as the curly boy raised his eyes up to her.

"I keep my word," she said in a voice overcome with the tears, "if you two love each other, you'll find a way."

Harry didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on Jay, who was absolutely still in front of him. The woman there was only a projection of the woman she used to be, as well as Harry was.

Yet...

There was  _something_. Harry's heart started beating furiously inside his chest while he looked into Jay's eyes, eyes that were full of tears that didn't seem to look sad. _Not this time._

“Jay?” Harry asked, hesitant.

“Oh my God,” Anne gasped, shocked, understanding Jay without need of words.

"He talked, Harry," Jay stuttered, falling on her knees, breaking in quiet sob of relief. "He's alive."

 

**XIII.**

When Harry walked into the room, the first thing he saw was Louis’ blue.

The blue of his eyes, as wide as the sky and as deep as the sea. He looked into his eyes and nothing happened, except that a big, loving smile appeared on the older boy’s face.

“Haz.”

Harry broke into tears, unable to contain his emotions. “Oh my God, Louis.”

He ran to Louis, who opened his arms to receive him in the tightest and warmer embrace he ever gave him. Harry buried his face on the crook of Louis’ neck, crying tears of joy and repeating soft ‘I love you’s over and over again.

“How is this possible?” Harry sniffed, clutching Louis’ face on his hands, leaning into to kiss him on the lips. “How is this possible? Oh God, Louis, you’re here.”

“I…” Louis talked with a raspy voice, barely audible. “I didn't want to lie to you. I love you, Harry.”

“I love you too,” he sobbed, resting his forehead against Louis’. He linked their hands and brought them to his chest, showing Louis how crazily his heart was beating. “I thought I have lost you. God, I was so scared, Lou. I don’t know how to live without you anymore.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you,” Louis assured, looking into his eyes. Harry couldn’t believe this, he couldn’t believe how he could stare in the infinity of Louis’ eyes without danger. “Never.”

“But how did this happen?” Harry asked, so lost. He didn’t understand how Louis had managed to broke the curse. "What broke the curse?"

“Trust.”

The answer was simple, short and so clear.

His curse had fallen upon him to fill a hole from his heart, to protect him from trusting again. The trust every kid puts in an adult had turned against Louis, and he had managed to break that till the point of wishing a curse to stop him from trusting people.

But Harry… _He trusted him_.

He trusted him enough to let the boy read his eyes, to look into his eyes without sunglasses. It was different. Harry knew him from head to toes; he didn't need a façade with him. He didn't need to stop him from seeing into his eyes, because Harry already knew him.

With Harry, Louis has learned to trust again.

“I love you, Louis,” Harry said. They were crying, trying to be as closer as possible, sharing messy kisses and endless words of love and promises of a better future. For them, it was beautiful. “I love you until the stars stop shining. This is forever.”

“I love you too, Harry. Until someone finds an explanation for this crazy thing that happened to me.”

Nobody, ever, understood why or how.

Nobody ever found any logical explanation for the curse, even after it was broken. There wasn’t a logical explanation for its breaking.

True love, sometimes, has no explanation.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr is always open](ijustgotowisharder.tumblr.com) xx


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